


Laughter Lines

by enigma731



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Fluff, M/M, POV Sam Wilson, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Team Bonding, Trolling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-03
Updated: 2014-07-03
Packaged: 2018-02-07 08:42:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1892565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigma731/pseuds/enigma731
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Steve Rogers trolled his boyfriend, plus one time Sam got him back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Laughter Lines

**Author's Note:**

  * For [queenofthepuddingbrains](https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenofthepuddingbrains/gifts).



> Some fluff for [mahenry424](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mahenry424/pseuds/mahenry424) because reasons. Also because Steve's birthday. 
> 
> Thank you to [andibeth82](http://archiveofourown.org/users/andibeth82/pseuds/andibeth82) for helping me pull this together in one night and then also doing a super quick beta. This would never have happened without you!

1\. 

It’s all over the news for a week: the definitive fall of HYDRA, the last splinter cells snuffed out for good. Only about a hundred years after the history books originally made that claim, but who’s counting, really?

The tabloid stand is covered in pictures of the Avengers when Sam stops for groceries on his way home from work. Thor posed with his hammer like a living tribute statue in front of the smoking remains of a raided bunker. Tony Stark grinning like a hyena as Steve shakes hands with the president. Natasha, looking equal parts triumphant and deadly. 

It feels surreal, thinking that he’s a part of their world now, but it also sends a little pang of melancholy through him. It’s been weeks since he’s seen any of them in person, since the fight moved overseas and he decided he wasn’t quite ready to leave his clients again on such short notice. 

If he’s being honest with himself, he knows he’s on the verge of another radical change, of leaving this life behind and starting a new one. He isn’t expecting it to happen tonight, though, isn’t expecting to do anything more exciting than microwave a pizza and watch Jeopardy. 

He is definitely not expecting to find Steve and Natasha lounging on his couch when he walks through the door, looking more pleased over the surprised noise that he makes than any of their other recent achievements. 

“The heroes return,” says Sam, looking back and forth between them. “You two better not have the whole city on your asses again. Because you know I love you, but I am _still_ driving a rental.”

Steve’s face falls almost imperceptibly at that, but Natasha is completely unfazed.

“We’re here to talk to you about your security,” she answers smoothly. “I mean, really, how are we supposed to use your place as a safehouse when you don’t even have biometric locks?”

“Actually I’m--we’re--here to ask how you’d feel about moving,” says Steve. “Stark’s just finished the rest of the residential floors in the Tower. Thought you might like to come join us. If you’re ready, of course.”

“You want me to live at the Tower,” Sam repeats, though it isn’t entirely a surprise. He’s had the grand tour of the place already, and has even spent a few nights there with Steve. The prospect of moving in is a whole other game, though. He doesn’t mention the fact that he finds Stark’s excess of luxury a bit intimidating, that if his bedroom here feels incongruously comfortable sometimes, the Tower would be like dropping into another dimension. “This a new perk of dating an Avenger?”

“Actually,” says Steve, “we want you to _be_ an Avenger. If you want. We could really use you. What do you say?”

_That_ proposition doesn’t need any consideration, because as far as Sam’s concerned, there’s only one possible answer. 

“Hell yeah.”

2.

He probably ought to know better than to take anything at face value, he thinks, when he sees that Natasha is with Steve to meet him at the front door of the Tower. Sam isn’t exactly on his game, though, exhausted from tying up loose ends and sore in places from packing, his muscles aching in ways that are going to make him seriously reconsider his workout routine. It’s been a long few days getting everything arranged, and he’s actually looking forward to discovering what sort of Stark-designed sauna or massage-bot might be waiting in his new bathroom.

“This way,” says Steve, leading Sam toward an elevator in a back hallway that he’s has never explored before. He has the feeling that he could (will) spend weeks exploring the Tower without seeing it all -- there’s a certain sense of magic about the building that makes it seem as though it might all be in a constant state of flux, rebuilding itself just out of sight.

“The new rooms are in a slightly different part of the building,” says Natasha, as they step out into a hallway that looks decidedly more utilitarian than the rest of the Tower. It smells vaguely of paint, and something akin to industrial solvent. Sam takes a breath and tries not to wonder too much about how finished this floor actually is. 

“This is you,” says Steve, sliding open a nondescript door and motioning Sam over the threshold.

It’s less than half the size of his old bedroom, and filled up with a large assortment of boxes he’s pretty sure don’t contain the things he’s shipped here. He’s pretty certain he can see a robotic arm just inside the top of one. Sam can’t help the way his heart sinks at the sight of the room, at the thought that he might be making a mistake, that he might have jumped into this too quickly. He wonders for a moment whether someone has other ideas about him joining the team, or if Steve’s simply gotten overzealous. Either way, Sam can’t bring himself to crush the look of outright glee on Steve’s face, the clear excitement at showing him this.

“Looks great,” says Sam, mustering as much enthusiasm as he can manage.

Natasha raises an eyebrow. “Really? You sure about that?”

Sam blinks. “Yeah. Why? Should I--not be?”

“Definitely not,” she says sweetly.

Steve grins. “This is Stark’s lab supply closet. You’re across the hall from me.”

Sam groans as Natasha breaks into laughter.

3.

“Your boyfriend cooked you dinner,” says Natasha, when Sam makes his way down to the communal kitchen. She’s seated at the table with a fragrant mug of tea, and a paperback with a dragon on the cover.

Steve is stirring a pot on the stove, which is producing a smell Sam can’t quite identify. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” he says automatically, moving to stand by Steve’s shoulder and watching as he spoons out a portion out into a bowl. 

Sam grabs a fork, blows away some steam, and takes a cautious bite. Potatoes he can identify right away, though they’ve been boiled so long they’re barely maintaining any sort of shape. Onions, too, he guesses, though there’s not much flavor left, and some sort of meat. Possibly sausage.

“Used to make this all the time as a kid,” Steve says brightly, wiping his hands on a towel.

Of course, thinks Sam. Everything about this screams Depression-era-recipe. “It’s--good,” he manages, taking another bite and wondering whether the limp mess might be improved by the addition of hot sauce. “Are these sausages?”

“Hot dogs,” says Steve, as if that explains everything.

“Hot dogs,” Sam repeats. “It’s very--different, you know. Filling, though. Definitely filling.”

 

Natasha laughs. “Actually Steve ordered us a pizza,” she relents, and there’s that damn Cheshire grin of hers again. “Because Clint and Thor happened to the fridge.”

“Thank god,” says Sam, dropping his fork and pushing the bowl away. “Because I’m pretty sure this stuff has even less flavor than the rations we used to have in the field.”

“I told you,” says Steve, sitting down across from him, “food’s a lot better now. Especially now that I’ve got company to share it with.” He reaches out tentatively, takes Sam’s hand on top of the table.

“Get a room,” Natasha teases, as Sam leans across the table and kisses him.

4.

“On your right,” Steve announces, just as Sam’s finished a set of laps in the Tower’s resort-style indoor pool. That’s all the warning he gets before Steve jumps in with a truly impressive cannonball, waves rippling outward.

“No way,” says Sam. “No way, not even trying to race you. I am _done_ with my workout for today.”

“You just gonna let me get away with this, then?” asks Steve, sending another large splash in his direction. 

Sam laughs, ducking under the water and surfacing again to crowd Steve’s personal space. “Hell no. You are going _down_.”

5.

Sam is in the middle of folding his laundry when he gets the distress call. It pings his phone like a mission alert would, only this is clearly private, just from Steve to him. It says _urgent_ , and the next thing he knows, he’s dropping the socks he’s been trying to pair and swallowing down panic as he heads out into the hallway.

He can’t fathom what would be so important, what would necessitate this sort of a secure message rather than a simple call, or a visit in person. But he also knows that with Steve, anything’s possible. He could be branded a terrorist again, could have some new and insane supervillain on his ass. He could have gotten another bit of intel that will change their lives forever. 

It only takes him a few quick strides to cross the hallway and arrive at Steve’s door, which slides open as he approaches it -- not so unusual for a room in the Tower. Steve isn’t there, though, or at least, not immediately visible in the entryway.

“Steve?” Sam calls out cautiously, wondering whether he ought to be on the defensive, how serious this really is.

“In here,” comes Steve’s voice, from the vicinity of the bedroom.

Sam freezes when he gets to the threshold, taking in the scene in front of him. Steve is seated on the edge of his bed, looking at Sam with a mix of pride and amusement. An array of takeout containers are spread on top of the comforter, and the Netflix display is already up on the television.

Sam blinks, the adrenaline falling away into anticipation. “This is what was so urgent?”

“Definitely,” says Steve. “I hear I’ve still got a lot of movies to catch up on. And the food was getting cold.”

+1

Steve is asleep when the knock jars him back to his senses. He’s managed to doze off on the couch, he realizes, and the sun has set sometime in the interim. It’s been a tough few days, a mission that took him and Banner halfway across the world, and one that ended with far too many innocent lives being lost despite their best efforts to intervene.

“Coming,” he says groggily, when the knocking doesn’t stop. 

“We need you upstairs right now,” says Sam, when Steve opens the door. He looks breathless, flustered in a way Steve has seldom seen before and in a way that he can’t ignore.

“What’s going on?”

“There’s a situation,” says Sam. “Stark and Banner have--Well, they’ve lost it. You really just need to come see.”

“Okay,” Steve agrees, sighing. 

There’s a wave of adrenaline starting in the pit of his stomach as they make their way down the hall to the elevator, as Sam hits the button at the top of the array.

“The roof?” asks Steve, a little incredulously.

Sam nods. “That’s where everyone is. That’s where we need you.”

“Surprise!” comes Tony’s yell as they step out of the elevator, followed by an irritated “guys, I thought we talked about this.”

The roof, Steve sees, is elaborately decorated for a party, complete with music and two long tables of food and drinks. The rest of the team is there as well, relaxed and smiling, except for Tony, who’s launched into a lecture about group rallying cries. Sam grins wider than Steve has ever seen before. 

“Happy birthday, Cap,” he says, leaning in to kiss Steve as far-off fireworks light up the horizon.


End file.
